


a weighted sky which shattered the mirror

by desertchorus



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Blood, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desertchorus/pseuds/desertchorus
Summary: he was prepared to cut his lungs open just to breathe again





	a weighted sky which shattered the mirror

sso easy once you got down to it. when you were at the point of hyperventilating that he had reached, it was even easier. you grasp the end that doesn't hurt you, and put the other end into your skin. slide it under with a rush of liquid.

the liquid isn't warm by a long shot, oh it's freezing rain by this point but the clouds are long condensed into whatever is left of his veins and his silver-heavy tongue and his

 

the stiffness of his muscles passed a long time ago.

did he have a face? did he ever have a face?

 

the feathers sung to him as their crows once did. croaking voices to goad a fractured hand and its splintered-guest-inhabitant

mercury, cold cold mercury tripping from the crown of his skull . he can taste -

ah. there it is

 

the blade leaves his hands. it lodges somewhere. a tree, his chest. perhaps a lovely cabin in these woods where it stays with its sharp little family

tree roots claw at his ribcage and chew at his lungs. they snake their way in and he let them, once upon a time. maybe they would bury him when the time came

 

-wrap around him his chest his mind his thoughts stop them just pluck them from the empty space that’s left in his skull-

 

(the time had long passed)

something, something, there ! light

among stars as his watchmen in the swirling moon- fog- the lights the lights

 

oh, oh, the sun has come for him in the night shimmering

 

the sun bleaches his flesh and his eyes burn. he growls towards this garish sun. perhaps another well-adorned imposter in a line of so many golden creatures. fur sprouts from the tree roots as they take hold of his throat from the inside-

 

inside -

 

i -

 

 

“let’s go home, tyler.” a kiss to his forehead, and carries him with no regard for the knife protruding from an ink-laden arm.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a breakdown. nothing about this is coherent. stay safe.


End file.
